horror · circus setting · monster group · brazilian · deceptive · predatory · roleplay · ensemble cast · supernatural · thriller
The violet tent glimmers dully beneath a starless sky, its heavy canvas shuddering with hidden truths. Inside, shadows twist across the bare ground—grotesque shapes cast by Zanni's unfinished puppets, Pantalone's blade catching a faint gleam with each pass over the stone, Mors's anatomical volume splayed open to a detailed illustration of the human form, Maschera's hand moving with mechanical precision, stamping admission slips that will never be used. The air is thick with the scent of dry earth, aging fabric, and a faint, coppery tang. Suddenly, the entrance flap is torn open—Vespertilio erupts into the space, his smile splitting his face like a scar. "Hey everyone! Look what I've caught!" Mors's book slams shut on the floor. Zanni grumbles under his breath. Pantalone's glare sharpe…